


The Wolves

by NoireRose



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games), Red Dead Redemption 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comfort/Angst, F/M, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Near Death, POV Alternating, Pining, Sharing a Bed, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Teasing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2020-06-27 01:18:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19780282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoireRose/pseuds/NoireRose
Summary: Colter.The law isn't the only thing on their trail in the raging storm.John, Micah, and Rosa scout ahead of the wagons when a snowstorm hits and they become separated.Will Rosa survive the night with the wolves at her back out there in the darkness, with no horse, no weapons, and no hope?----------This can be read as a prequel toWarm Wateror as a standalone story.





	1. I could love you

**Author's Note:**

> Rosa Reyes and Micah Bell  
>   
>   
>   
> Note: _Italic blocks_ = Flashback time!  
>   
> 
> 
> * * *

The wind outside the cabin blew a gale, howling like a wounded animal, the ominous sound adding to the air of despair that hung over them. There was no food, no blankets. Only the biting cold from the snowstorm they had arrived in which chilled to the bone.

_ “Stay strong.” _

The sullen faces murmured to one another as they lamented the loss of yet another member of their family, the first to leave them too soon was little Jenny, now Davey’s lifeless body lay covered at the other end of the cabin, a stark reminder of what an outlaw’s end looked like.

_ “Stay with me.” _

Mac. Sean. John. Rosa. Micah.

Their names were spoken in hushed whispers between the folks huddled by the fire. Where were they? Were they even alive? Dutch seemed to think so, ever the optimist. It was hard to imagine any of them out there in that blizzard with nothing but the wolves in the dark of night and the law on their trail. 

_ “We ain’t done yet!” _

Their charismatic leader understood their fears, after what happened in Blackwater who could blame them? In a show of faith and goodwill he offered up himself to brave the elements, to find them food and other essentials, in order to turn the abandoned mining cabin into a temporary shelter for what he considered to be his family. Or what was left of them.

“If Arthur doesn’t want to go, that’s fine. But I  _ need _ to go.” Javier pushed through the front door as he followed Arthur and Dutch outside, his voice strained with sense of urgency.

“Look son, I know you’re worried about her...” Dutch paused, searching for the conviction to strengthen his words. “...but she’ll be just fine. Her, John, and Micah went scouting ahead and they could be back any minute now. You and Arthur are the best fit men I’ve got right now, I can’t be takin’ you both. I need you here when they arrive and... to look after them. ” He pointed back to the cabin.

“It’s been a day now Dutch.” Javier stressed his point, Davey’s passing on their arrival at Colter had rattled his nerves and lit a fire of urgency in him to find Rosa, he couldn’t stop torturing himself with the worst possible scenarios that his mind could conjure. John had been shot in Blackwater which meant he was out there scouting with an injury, while Micah, well he didn’t trust much that the man had the compassion to look after the weak and abide by ‘no man left behind’.

“You know what that girl is like, she’s all hellfire. You think a lil’ snow is gonna to stop her?” Arthur drawled, attempting to lighten his friend’s spirit. He wasn’t too worried, that woman was a ruthless survivor, far more capable than John and Micah combined. If anything, he imagined Rosa would be the one to take care of both those idiots. In his eyes, she deserved better than minding after two children but John had refused to let her go alone with Micah, much to Abigail’s disdain.

“A little snow was about to stop you, Arthur.” Javier shot back, a little snarkier than he had intended, he knew his friend meant well but he was sick with worry. Dutch couldn’t help but chuckle at the observation that Arthur had complained about going back out in the snow. 

“Well she ain’t an old fool now, is she?” Arthur crossed his arms and shifted from foot to foot awkwardly as he grumbled to himself, lowering his head so the brim of his hat hid his expression.

“Javier, we will keep an eye out.” Dutch reassured him firmly before pointing back to the cabin “You go get yourself warm and keep these folks safe. Please.”

Javier let out a long sigh of frustration, jaw grinding as he said nothing for a few moments, quelling the war between his mind and his heart as he took the time to process Dutch’s orders. He nodded to himself as he reached acceptance.

“She better come back.”

* * *

_ ‘Dios mío, I’m going to die.’ _

Rosa thought to herself as the violent shivering throughout her entire body slowly succumbed to a creeping numbness making her legs give way and her knees hit the snow beneath her. She had managed to get as far as her weary legs could carry her through a raging snowstorm in the total darkness of the night, the moon hidden away behind clouds like a cruel joke as the chill set in her bones.

She had no compass, no torch, no food, no water, no hope. She had nothing but a hunting knife and the sleet soaked clothes on her back.

She had lost everything when her horse had violently bucked her off after they’d been set-upon by a pack of wolves, she’d fought so desperately to calm the horse and stay mounted as two of the ferocious beasts broke from the pack and lunged for John’s horse ahead. She had taken a split second to drop her reins and pump her shotgun when the chaos broke out, the sheer terror of the situation making it seem like everything moved in slow motion. There was a savage gnashing of teeth behind her followed by a sudden and sharp jerk in her saddle as her mare’s rear buckled underneath her, causing her finger to pull down the trigger. A booming shot rang out and suddenly she was falling backwards through the air. John’s frenzied screams for her becoming more and more distant with every heartbeat, her mouth contorted into a scream of his name but no sound came. Her eyes frozen in terror as a flurry of white powder engulfed his silhouette in the distance. He was gone.

It was the last thing she saw before her head hit a rock with a sickening crack, then darkness took her.

She had no idea how long she had been out cold for, or how she hadn’t been devoured by starving wolves. All she knew was that when she had come to: it was dark, she was freezing, disoriented, starving, and alone. She couldn’t stop seeing John’s face, eyes full of terror as he looked back at her before being swallowed up by the storm.

_ John... _

A wolf howled in the distance, as if heralding her impending doom. She snapped her eyes shut to hold back tears at the hopelessness of it all, this was not how she’d imagine she would die; half frozen to death and eaten by wolves. All alone with no fight left to give. She knew she had to carry on moving to keep the blood pumping, but she had nothing left in her. A sensation of lightheadedness washed over her as she pushed herself to her feet, her head rolled languidly about her shoulders, feeling light as a feather as her body sank into the snow with breaths so shallow it felt like they had stopped altogether.

A halo of warm orange light lit up her peripheral vision but her body would not cooperate with her to sit up and look upon it. Gazing up at the sky, she felt strangely at peace as a warmth spread across her chest in place of her heartbeat. It felt like bliss. Euphoric almost.

_ This it is... this is what dying feels like.  _

The soft glow burned brighter as it approached until it flooded her vision, blinding her completely. She thought she had heard her name as her consciousness slowly slipped away, as if she were falling into a dream. She reached a delicate gloved hand towards the light and felt a heavy warmth envelope it completely.

_ He has come for me. Death. He’s here... _

“Wh-what took you... so long?”

A muffled cackle rang out in her ears. It was the last thing she heard before her mind faded to black.

* * *

He placed the lantern down and knelt beside her in the snow before placing his head flush against her chest, waiting to see it rise and fall, the movement barely registering as he listened for a heartbeat. He held his own breath in anticipation, still grasping her gloved hand in his. Each beat came, slower than the last, the pauses between them stretching out further and further. He had to move fast. He should never had left her with that weakling Marston to scout ahead.

“Don’t you go dyin’ on me now, ‘ya hear?”

Quickly, he took the lantern and attached it to the side of his belt, taking a moment to call for his horse before scooping her up into his arms, surprising himself by how light she felt in them. He looked down at her as she stirred for a fleeting moment and a there was a sudden pang in his heart that he had never felt before. He had never seen her this close, or this vulnerable. Her head dangled back over his arm exposing a long delicate neck leading to an exquisitely defined jawline and soft lips. 

The first day he laid eyes on her in Blackwater, he swore the devil himself was testing him. 

_ “Black haired women are the devil.” His father used to say. He was starting to believe there was a truth to that now. He would just about commit any sin as he watched her walk around the stable to remove a long-scoped rifle stowed on a horse. She sat herself at a stool by the entrance to clean the weapon resting between her thighs. The way her full pink lips pursed as she diligently worked the oil-soaked rag over the barrel, a delicate hand gliding vigorously over the shaft in a fluid twisting motion, it stoked a fire low in his belly and made his throat parched. _

_ Her tousled hair was as black as midnight, flowing freely to her petite waist. She had worn a tight white bodice that showed off her ample bosom, straps hanging loose and carefree around small tan shoulders. Black high-waisted jeans that flaunted wide curvy hips and a shapely rear that swayed hypnotically with every step she took. There was a radiant glow to her, a dewy fresh face from working out there in the heat, set with high cheekbones and a gracefully tapered chin that framed it flawlessly. _

_ He had been with many women, most of them paid for and always fair-skinned, but he had never seen a woman like her before. She looked like she belonged on a ‘Gems of Beauty’ collectible cigarette card. _

_ “Ah, I see you’ve found Miss Reyes. Although, she don’t like being referred to that way.” Dutch had told him, the older man noting how he must’ve been staring at her from across the way like a complete slack-jawed fool. _

_ “Who is she?” He asked Dutch, intrigued. He had heard the stories about Abigail. This crew had some fine women, that was for damn sure. He wondered if maybe Miss Reyes was also a whore, he was willing to bet she’d make a pretty penny with that exotic allure and a body built for sinning. _

_ “Her name’s Rosa. She’s been away for some time with Arthur and Hosea workin’ a lead. I will introduce you tonight at the meetin’. I do suggest caution. She can be a little...” Dutch rubbed a bejewelled hand over his chin as he paused to find the right word. “...fiery.” _

_ “Oh you know me Dutch, I like ‘em real wild. I’ll save you the trouble and introduce myself to the lady.” _

_ “Well, good luck Son.” Dutch chuckled heartily and gave him a firm pat on the back before leaving him to his own devices, the sound alerting Rosa who snapped her gaze to them. She was sharp. The way she stared down directly at them made him think maybe he should heed Dutch’s advice but his curiosity had been piqued and there was no going back. _

_ He sucked in a sharp breath as he mustered the confidence to walk over to her. He struck a match and lit a cigarette but when he looked up to where she had been sitting, she was no longer there.  _

_ Making his way over to the barn to look for her, a barely audible conversation could be heard coming from inside, rising in intensity the closer he got. He heard a man and a woman, speaking in Spanish. He couldn’t understand a word of it but could tell by the tone that she sounded mighty displeased and the man seemed to be pleading with her. _

_ He settled in against the threshold of the barn keenly watching the pair at the far end, too wrapped up in their little tiff to notice his presence. He recognised the man, it was that fancy Mexican who rode with the gang, Javier, and that woman, Rosa. His brows furrowed in thought at the scene before him. Were they together? The way Javier’s animated hands attempted to touch her made him think so but the way she evaded them also made him think, perhaps not.  _

_ “Por favor, escúchame. Se lo ruego.” Javier’s grand hand gestures begged with her but she just shook her head at him.  _

_ “No. No!” She turned to walk away when Javier suddenly lunged forward and grabbed her by the wrist to stop her. Quicker than lightning, she spun back to face the cocky bastard and struck him swiftly across the cheek with a loud slap, the impact knocking his bowler hat clean off the top of his head and sending him reeling back in shock, wild eyed and red-faced.  _

_ Oh boy, Dutch had been right. He bit down hard to stop himself from hollering at what he had just witnessed, there was something deeply satisfying at seeing a showy man put in his place by a strong woman like that. That woman didn’t take any shit, it lit a fire inside him as he watched her. _

_ “Touch me again, I will end you.” She challenged him, in English this time, the words dripping with malice before turning her back on Javier and heading for the door when she finally noticed there had been an audience. _

_ Intense emerald eyes locked with his as she saw him standing by the entrance, his arms crossed and an amused smile plastered on his face as he gave pause to make a witty remark but swallowed it down when she stopped by a bail of hay for a moment to pick up the long-scoped rifle she’d been cleaning earlier. _

_ “You.” She spoke flatly as she approached him by the door, he was expecting an earful for eavesdropping but if she was angry at his presence, she didn’t show it. “You obviously ain’t got nothin’ better to do... How do you feel about makin’ some quick cash?” _

_ The way she acknowledged him along with the question threw him off but at the same time, it enthralled him. There was something about her that he recognised deep within himself, a volatile edge. He knew better than anyone that erratic people were dangerous. He flicked his cigarette to the dirt, eyes never leaving hers. _

_ “What you got in mind, Miss?” _

_ “Name’s Rosa.” She spoke quickly, seemed she didn’t care much for formalities. “There’s a stagecoach rollin’ by in about an hour’s time, just north of here. Some fancy singin’ lady comin’ from the big city to perform here at the theater. I got a friend stationed out there, told me she is just burstin’ at the seams with luxuries for the long journey. There’s just the one feller accompanyin’ her.” _

_ His eyes lit up at the information, she was straight to business and he liked that, this was not what he had been expecting to hear from a woman.  _

_ Her eyes were ablaze with anticipation, she slowly nodded her head at him as if to encourage him to say yes. The gesture sending a tingle down his spine and rendering him unable to spit out a response. His hesitation eliciting a devious smile to spread across her face as she chewed on her lower lip. Lord have mercy, she was a she-devil sent to test his will. He was sure of it now. _

_ “Why don’t you ask Romeo back there?” He teased in an attempt to settle himself, she scoffed and waved him off as if dismissing him. Javier had since made himself scarce, unable to face any further blows to his ego. _

_ “Forget it, I’ll ask Arthur.” _

_ Hearing the name of Dutch’s right hand man instantly made him grit his teeth with distaste, until he realised there was the insinuation that she had asked him first before considering Arthur. Oh, she was good. He had to admit. Pushing his buttons like that, he imagined just how far she could get under his skin if she only knew him well enough. There was no way in hell he’d let that happen, lest he end up like that Mexican fool. _

_ “No.” He spoke firmly as he flicked his index finger between the two of them. “Just you and me darlin’.” He said eyeing her with a serious intent. Her smile slowly returned as she nodded. _

_ “That’s all we need, Mr. Bell.” She gave him a wink and turned towards her horse, leaving him floored. She had known who he was, the realisation made him feel uneasy, he wondered who had told her and what else she’d heard about him. _

* * *

He’d come across the old abandoned hunting cabin earlier that afternoon after he’d left John and Rosa to scout ahead of them. It had been cleared out of anything remotely useful and lacked a fireplace for any heat but it was shelter from the storm and that would have to do. He couldn’t risk tracking back to the group with Rosa in her condition, her breathing was too shallow and skin far too pale. He needed to get her warm if she was going to make it.

He kicked in the old shack’s door with ease as he carried her in his arms, her clothing was soaked through with sleet, clinging to her skin and dripping with every step he took. He couldn’t put her down on the bed like that so he opted to set her down on top of an old wooden table for the moment until he could figure out what he was supposed to do. Looking after someone else was as foreign to him as the woman in front of him.

He set the dim lantern on a dusty nightstand by the bed, The bed was small, made for one person, and had been stripped of any blankets or pillows. He would have to use his bedroll to keep her warm. 

He headed outside to fetch it but when he returned, the sound of her violently shivering broke him into a cold sweat. He figured she felt the cold again, which was a hell of a lot better than not feeling a damn thing but as he unfurled his bedroll out over the bed, he knew it wasn’t enough to keep him warm let alone her.

Contemplating silently, he watched as water began pooling on the floor from her wet clothes as it seeped through the cracks of the table where she was laid out on. He let out a long sigh of defeat as he rubbed his palms into his eyes. He knew what he had to do, he hoped she did too.

Positioning himself over to where her legs were hanging over the edge of the table, he pulled off her boots before dragging her down further by the back of her knees so he’d be able to reach her waist. One of her legs jerked forcefully at the movement, as if trying to fight it.

“Wh-what... are you...” her voice was small and breathless between the shivering that gripped her, she was trying to sit up to get a look at him but the strength was not there. 

He gritted his teeth and pushed on, reaching for her belt buckle before beginning to pry it loose from around her waist. Her leg jerked again in protest, this time kicking into his hip and making him hiss in frustration. If he didn’t move quick, he was going to have a fight in his hands.

“Stop!” She wailed as he swiftly ripped off the soaked pants that had clung to her skin, leaving her bottom half bare. She pressed her shivering thighs together instinctively and forced herself to sit up as fight or flight adrenaline kicked in. A look of sheer terror washed over her pallid face at the recognition of the man in front of her, it was as if she’d seen a ghost. “Micah!”

He watched her silently for a moment, emerald eyes wild with fear as she looked around the dark room that she did not recognise and back to him, the man who was trying to forcefully remove her clothing while she was too weak to protest. 

“If you don’t get out of them wet clothes soon...” he pointed at the discarded jeans by his feet. “...’yer gonna catch a freeze deep in them bones.”

She sat there frozen, eyes locked with his as the weight of her situation set in. 

He stepped in closer to her and grabbed her soggy fur coat, bringing it down over her shoulders slowly to let her know he meant no harm to her, it would be easier for the both of them if she didn’t fight him and it seemed she understood that too.

He reached for the top button on her shirt, her eyes never leaving his even as they began to water. He looked away then, unable to take her fear of him and her shame even after he had rescued her. It hurt him to see all those feelings reflected in her eyes, as much as he denied that he could be hurt, something in him couldn’t bear to see her cry at his touch.

“I ain’t a monster.” He muttered to her as much as he was telling himself when he reached the last button, gently pulling her shirt open and down over her shoulders, leaving her goose-fleshed body exposed in the dim light and weakening the shivering. He met her gaze again to keep his own trained from the temptation of roaming her naked form. This was not how he wanted to see her, pale and weak, holding on to life.

A single tear rolled down her cheek at hearing his words, eyes pleading with him for relief from her own humiliation. There was a pain in his chest at seeing her this way, it broke him. He had never felt this way before.

“Here...” He spoke with a heavy heart as he removed his jacket and began unbuttoning his own shirt. “Use this to dry yourself.”

He placed his relatively dry shirt into her hands and quickly went about hanging up her wet items of clothing around the room. Anything to keep himself from having to look at her. He could feel the anger swelling in him at the cold hard truth as to how she felt about him. He’d basically saved her life and yet it wasn’t enough to make her trust him. Did she really think that low of him? That he would do such a despicable thing to a dying woman? 

“Th-thank... you.” She stammered through gritted teeth as she continued to shiver, her trembling hand holding out his now dampened shirt. Her gratitude eased his anger somewhat as he took the shirt from her and scrunched it over in his fists uneasily, fidgeting at the nervousness of what he knew he must do.

“Can ‘ya stand?” He asked after a moment of silent contemplation, moving in front of her with a hand held out. 

Glazed eyes looked up to him as she reached her hand out to his, her touch was like ice. He clasped her hand tightly and wrapped his other arm around her back, bringing her into his bare torso for support as he assisted her off the table and to her feet. 

The contact of her cold skin on his sent shivers down his spine and he could feel her tenseness slowly easing as if she were melting into him, the shivering lessening with each passing moment that he held her. With his arm around her back and the other clasping her hand, it looked as though the two of them were dancing. 

She pressed herself further into him, trying to absorb as much of his body heat as she possibly could. The movement stoked a fire deep in his belly, a low growl escaping his lips as he felt himself harden in his jeans.

_ Fuck. _

He guided them towards the bed and eased her down onto it carefully, fixating his gaze to hers lest he lose focus, he could feel that fire threatening to rage out of control.

He covered her under the bedroll and sat at the edge of the bed, clenching his jaw as he turned away to stare down at the floorboards, fighting a war in his mind against these strange feelings that bubbled under his skin. An icey feather-light touch on his arm gently pulled at him, he turned to meet a doe-eyed stare that seemed to speak a thousand words at once.

There was a selfish desire burning inside him at the way she had looked at him then, to be needed and wanted by a woman that he had longed for, even though he was painfully aware that their current circumstance meant neither of them really had a choice. She needed his warmth if she was going to make it through the night.

He slid under the bedroll and shifted uneasily beside her cold naked body, this was the closest he had ever been to a woman he hadn’t paid for. He gritted his teeth at the thought as he stared up at the ceiling, fixing his gaze on a rotting broken beam, unsure of what to do as a heavy silence fell over them.

He had become lost in his own thoughts when he felt her rolling herself to her side, away from him, curling herself into a foetal position for warmth in an attempt to ease the shivering. His body followed out of instinct, curling himself around her when she jerked herself away at the contact of his bare torso against her back. 

“Your belt.” Was all she had said.

The words were a soothing reprieve to the sting of his perceived rejection. He fumbled with the buckle that had obviously stuck into her back and caused her discomfort, hastily unfastening it before letting it drop over the side of the bed.

He sucked in the cold cabin air through gritted teeth as he braced himself to hold her once more. His confidence faltering with a trembling hand as he slowly reached for her body, as if he had just been scalded and was afraid he was going to get burnt again. Warm calloused fingers danced on icy softness at the dip of her waist, testing the waters. When he felt sure that his touch was accepted, he gently placed his palm against her supple skin, it was covered in goosebumps. The unrelenting shivering left her body trembling under his touch.

“Your hands...” She spoke in a hushed whisper. “... _ so _ warm.”

That was all the encouragement he needed to pull her body against his, enveloping her completely in his warmth and  _ christ _ , holding her felt  _ so good  _ even if it chilled him to the bone. A low and soft moan of relief escaped her lips as she pushed herself against him to take in his warmth. Micah felt himself lose his grip on his decency at the sound of her entwined with the pressure of her shapely backside pressing into his groin.

She shifted herself in his embrace, trying to get comfortable. The friction of her ass grinding against him was pure torture, making Micah wince in pain at the sensitivity of his swelling cock against his jeans.  _ God _ , it would be so easy to pin her down, spread her wide and take his relief from her. The thought awakened those savage desires that he kept buried in a deep dark part of himself, they threatened to consume him in a wildfire.

“Stop.” He snarled into her neck, fighting to maintain control of himself, his breath came hot and heavy with a white-knuckled grip, fingers digging into her hips as he yanked her hard against his aching erection and held her there to make a point. “Stop your goddamn squirmin’!”

* * *

He awoke later that night to a warmth nuzzling into his neck and a heaviness of limbs draped over his torso. Coming out of his sleep, he could feel her lips softly grazing his jaw as her breaths become laboured, the delicate hand that rested over his chest slid upwards to clutch at his shoulder suddenly.

She softly moaned words he couldn’t decipher in Spanish, burying her face into his neck with urgency, hot breath on his skin sent shivers running down his spine and his pulse racing. The devil sure was testing him tonight.

“Rosa?” He shook her gently, the touch making her curl tighter around him as she responded with a low moan, her face moving upwards to his. In the dim moonlight filtering in through the window, he could see her eyes were closed, her beautiful face creased with a grimace. 

“John...” She called out breathlessly. Micah’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach at hearing that name. “...no me dejes... John...” Her breathing came shorter and faster, sounding less like pleasurable panting and a lot more like a rising panic.

Rosa shot up in bed with a piercing shriek that chilled Micah to the bone and left her panting in a cold sweat.

“You had a bad dream.” Micah sat up beside her, unsure of how to comfort her when she’d been crying out for another man in her sleep.

“John...did you see him? Did you find him, before you found me?”

Rosa turned to him, a distressed gaze searching his for an answer. He wondered if she’d ever agonize over him like that one day. The thought cut him deeply.

“I ain’t seen him Rosa.”

“We need to find him!” She threw her legs over the side of the bed to get up but Micah put a stop to it, grabbing her by her arm. 

“Whoa there missy! Just where in the hell do you think you’re going?!”

“Micah, let go.” 

“You gonna head back out there in that storm, in soppin’ wet gear with a chill in your bones, ‘cause lil’ greasy Marston’s got a cock worth fuckin’ dyin’ for?! Now ain’t that just the sweetest thing this ol’ black heart has ever heard!” 

A sharp slap echoed throughout the empty room. He rubbed his stinging cheek, he deserved it, he knew his petty spiteful jealousy had gone too far.

“Look, you wanna go out there and die with him, I ain’t gonna stop you.” He eased his grip around her arm. “Or, you could wait ‘til mornin’ when we’re both rested. I’ll take you back to the others... get some help with trackin’ that stupid son of a bitch in the light of day.”

He watched her intently as she silently deliberated, regretful of the way she had struck the man who’d saved her. Also deep down, she knew he was right.

“There was a pack of wolves before the storm hit...” she said softly, lowering her head as the memory came back to haunt her, unruly black hair cascaded around her with the movement. “... that’s how I lost him Micah. If something happens to him...Abigail will never forgive me. And Jack...”

“You’re the one who came off your horse.” He stated as a matter of fact and leaned over to her. “When you last saw him, was he on horseback?”

“Yes.”

“So let’s just say that moron is still out there, presuming he didn’t just ride back to the wagons...” He could feel her glaring at him at the insinuation that John had basically left her to die. “... he’s still got a horse and a gun, presumably most of his belongings... he’d be doing a hell of a lot better than you out there.”

After a long stretch of heavy silence she leaned into him, resting her face alongside his. He felt long lashes brush his cheek as she closed her eyes and sighed, admitting defeat. 

“Micah?...”

Her closeness choked the words in his throat and rendered him unable to speak, he grunted in acknowledgement.

“I- I thought I was going to die...” Her lips traced the words against his skin, her mouth trailing towards his as she spoke in a hushed whisper. “... if you hadn’t found me, I would have died out there.”

A surge of anticipation welled up inside him, he could almost taste her. He needed to touch her to make sure he wasn’t the one stuck in some sort of fever dream, he ran a hand over her bare back to her delicate neck, she felt  _ so _ warm. 

At his touch, lush pillowy lips pressed against his, in all his lustful daydreaming he never imagined that they could be  _ so _ soft and delicate. The kiss along with the way her hand roamed in his long hair to the back of his head felt electric.

“Thank you.” She pulled away to express her gratitude, but words were not needed. He ached for her to continue displaying just how grateful she was. “I don’t think I could ever repay you...”

A low chuckle rumbled through him at her words. He brought his hand to cup her face, tracing his thumb over her glistening lips and parting them slightly with soft strokes. He could feel her breath quicken in her chest.

“Oh I’m sure you could Rosa.” He drawled with a sly teasing tone, flicking his gaze to meet her doe-eyed expression.

“Goodness, I don’t have anything you’d want! I don’t even got a horse no more, Mister Bell.” She replied innocently, playing into his teasing. This little pantomime excited him, he loved every moment of it.

“No see, that’s where you’re wrong Miss.” He pulled her into him, a soft gasp escaping her lips at his assertiveness. “I’m thinkin’ you have everything I want and then some...”

“Oh is that so?” There was a hint of playfulness in her smile as she continued to feign ignorance, she bit her lower lip as she traced the deep scar that ran harshly from the bottom of his lip across his chin.  _ Goddamn _ , that lip biting. It killed him every time. He’d watched her do it a thousand times before; as she worked, when she was concentrating on a plan, when one of the girls told her a juicy piece of gossip, but it never failed to make him instantly aroused.

His intense fixation on her lips must have been obvious to her because she pressed them against his again, this time with a fervent need that set off a hunger deep within him. He claimed her mouth, over and over with his rough chapped lips, the contrast between them was intoxicating.

“Like this?” She asked breathlessly between his smothering kisses. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes!” The words tumbled from his mouth without thought. “No! I meant - “

“Oh..” She pulled away from him suddenly with a grieved look set on her pretty face, it almost worked too until she laughed at his tense expression. He grumbled at being made fun of and grabbed her in his arms again for a moment until she wrestled out of his embrace and straddled his lap, the look of playfulness had been replaced with a serious intent and instantly he knew this was a dangerous game they were playing.

“Do you want to fuck me Micah, is that it?”

The way she said those words made him burn with a primal desire in response, god he wanted her so fucking bad that it hurt. There was a painful realisation that he  _ needed _ her, completely and truly as his, not just her body but her whole being. He wanted her time, her care and attention. He knew he’d never have it, there were far better men than him clamouring for it. The thought darkened his mood. 

“No.” A sharp and bitter response to her question left her with a puzzled expression. He turned away from her prying gaze that searched his for an explanation. 

“Then what?...” She prodded, ignoring his sour mood while sowing kisses along his jaw that made his fingers dig into the soft flesh of her perfectly rounded ass and grind her down against the throbbing erection in his jeans, an all-consuming fervour betraying his words. “...what is it you want from me?”

_ Fuck _ . The way her body moved was a sight to behold, the arch of her back as she dipped her hips riding against his movements was hypnotic. He couldn’t think straight.

“You.” He groaned into her mouth, drunk on desire. “All of you.”

She shook her head softly with a throaty laugh, pulling away from him. A perfect tease, if he didn’t know her any better. But he did and he knew damn well you couldn’t tame a woman like her. You wanted her because she was wild and free, but resented her for it in the same breath. Women like her belonged to no one. He wasn’t a fool like all the others who pined for her affections. Like that Javier, now there was a fool if he ever saw one.

“Why not?” His hands roamed into her thick silky hair, tugging fistfuls of it at her scalp gently at first until she arched her neck back with a moan, his tongue trailing the exposed flesh there.

“Because Micah... you could never love me.”

His teeth dug into her skin at her response making her hiss his name. “You don't know that.”

“Yes, I do. I know  _ you _ Micah Bell.” She took his face in her hands to keep him still, she needed him to hear what she had to say. “We’re the same, you and I... we’re broken. We have a hunger that is never sated. We want, and want... and we ain’t ever satisfied. We know violence and rage and lust. But we don’t know how to love.”

The truth to her words left him floored, like she lived in a dark recess of his mind and knew his innermost feelings, thoughts he had always known were  _ wrong _ with him. 

“You’d make a fella’ like me real happy.” He stubbornly pressed as he lifted her by her slender waist onto her back so that he was now between her legs, he slowly stretched both her arms over her head with his and pinned them in place with a strong grip, finally taking in the breathtaking sight of her curves in the moonlight. 

“I could love you, Rosa.” 


	2. Dark Omens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosa gets a visitor in the night bearing a gift
> 
> Est. reading time: 10 minutes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, wow thanks for the kind comments! I know us Micah fans are few and far between, but this fic is for you guys, ily.

The pair had gathered in the dark hallway of the derelict building, one of the few that remained intact in the abandoned mining town they found themselves holed-up in, away from the group’s prodding and prying after they’d ushered Rosa away to a small room at the far end of the dwelling.

"She is not to be disturbed," Arthur instructed in a hushed tone. "Now I don't know what in god's name happened out there on that mountain but she ain't said a peep since. She ain’t even ask after John or the others and..." He trailed off and pointed at the damp bedroll that Susan Grimshaw cradled in her arms, one of the few things covering Rosa’s shivering body when they’d helped her off Micah’s horse.

"You don't think he...  _ you know _ ?" Susan’s eyes grew dark as she whispered the last words and deep lines etched themselves in Arthur’s forehead at the imagery that her question left hanging in the air. He rubbed the stubble on his jaw pensively.

“Naw,” He drawled after a moment of deliberation, almost as if trying to convince himself that there were lines that man wouldn’t cross. Ever since meeting Micah, Arthur had been left with an uneasy feeling churning in his gut that something just wasn’t quite right with the man. “Not unless he had some sorta’ death wish. He’d have to be out of his damn mind, no one here would stand for that.”

Susan nodded in agreement, the older woman smiled sincerely and gave Arthur’s arm a gentle squeeze. “It’s been a difficult few days. She’s probably just in shock. Gettin’ lost out there in that storm. Losin’ Jenny. Not even sure if she knows about Davey yet. She probably thinks she’s lost the others too... Does she know?” she paused before looking Arthur in the eyes. “Does she know that you and Javier found John this mornin’?”

“Well, I told her John was gonna be real happy to see her and the way she looked at me Susan... a look so cold it could cut a man. I didn’t say much else after that...”

“You said it yourself Arthur, you’d thought he just took off again. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had those same-self thoughts.” Susan paused for a moment. “You know... he’s been cryin’ out for her in a fever. Abigail left the room in tears earlier.”

“Where is she?” Javier came storming down the hallway towards them during that inopportune moment, his words more of a demand than a question as he eyed the pair with a steely gaze that cautioned he was not going to take no for an answer when Grimshaw turned to obstruct his path to the room behind them.

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose and pressed his eyes shut to hold back a string of curses, he felt a headache coming on. After everything they'd been through that morning, he didn’t have it in him to fight his friend.

“Keep your voice down! The girl is indisposed and not to be disturbed by  _ anyone _ .” Grimshaw hissed with a murderous glare.

“Get out of my way, I need to see her. I swear to -”

“Listen, Javier,” Arthur intervened before Grimshaw had a chance to say or do anything that may have pushed Javier to come good on his unspoken threat, stepping in front of the older woman and coming face to face with his friend, who behind the bravado held a grief-stricken look in those dark eyes. “She’s sleepin’ right now. She needs the rest. Hell, we all do! Some of us ain’t slept for three days now!”

But Rosa wasn’t asleep.

Every time she closed her eyes all she could see was the violent gnashing of fangs as they snapped in a void of darkness. Sometimes there was blood trickling from snarling jaws. Other times, there were twin snakes binding muzzles. Dark omens that tormented her dreams for weeks now began to hound her consciousness. She began to wonder if maybe she should have taken up the Reverend’s earlier offer of morphine so she could sleep peacefully, even if just for one night.

She sank back against the door, unable to make heads or tails of Arthur’s and Susan’s faint murmurings, letting herself slide down to the floor when she recognised Javier’s demands to see her. 

She was thankful that her two friends had insisted on leaving her be. She wanted nothing more than to be alone and away from the endless questions; ‘Are you alright?’, ‘He didn’t hurt you, did he?’, ‘Where’s your horse?’, ‘What happened?’.

Rosa brought her legs to her chest as she sat with her back against the door and rested her head upon her knees. Her mind tortured her with Arthur’s news upon her return:  _ “John’s gonna be real happy to see ‘ya, darlin’.”  _

_ ‘So he did leave me behind... again.’ _

Grim thoughts that had lurked beneath the surface threatened to consume her like a wildfire, convincing her that John had turned tail and left her out there in the dark with the wolves.

_ ‘Did he even try to look for me?’ _

_ Christ _ , she could kill for a drink and a cigarette right now but the thought of going out there to face anyone quickly made her think twice, opting instead to crawl into bed with one of Dutch’s borrowed books. It wasn’t long before the cozy warmth of finally finding herself in a soft bed completely enveloped her and before she knew it, she had fallen into a deep sleep.

* * *

A tapping at the window roused Rosa from her slumber. Sitting up in the darkness she realised that she had slept the entire afternoon away. She found herself wondering if the tapping had been a dream when she heard it again, a little louder this time, making her jolt out of bed.

Wandering over to the window, she could make out a dark figure in the shadows and a surge of fear hit her at the realisation she was unarmed.

“Pssst! Open the damn window, I’m freezin’ my balls off out here!”

Rosa instantly recognised the voice and flicked the latch, the window flinging open after a hard push from the outside to dislodge the deteriorating pane that had frozen shut, a flurry of snow whirling into the room as Micah hoisted himself over the ledge before falling into the room with all the grace of a grizzly bear.

“What the hell Micah!?” Rosa hurried to close the window behind him again before all the warmth was sucked out of the room.

“Yeah well, mommy and daddy ain’t lettin’ anyone see their little princess.” Micah scoffed as he rose to his feet and removed his white hat, striking it against his palm to dislodge snow haphazardly all over the floor. 

Rosa couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of it all. Here he was, this gruff grown man, sneaking into her room in the middle of the night like a foolish juvenile.

She watched him silently now in her room, trying to work out why he was there. He shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny, patting snow off his jacket.

“How you holdin’ up?” He asked to break the heaviness of the silence hanging over them. The question genuinely surprising Rosa who crossed her arms over her chest almost defensively, she didn’t like it when she couldn’t figure something out, it felt threatening to her.

“Just fine.” She said with a long skeptical drawl as she watched him unbutton his jacket and reach in to get something out of the inside pocket. She’d be lying if she said that movement didn’t make her nervous.

“I came by to bring you this. Thought you might need it.” He presented her with an unmarked bottle of dark liquid. Rosa dropped her guarded stance and approached him slowly to take the bottle, men bearing gifts in the middle of the night was never a good sign. She turned the unfamiliar bottle over in her hands, examining it cautiously.

“What is it?” Deep inquisitive eyes locked with his as he studied her for a reaction to his gift, she popped the top and took a sniff before making a repulsed gagging sound. “Christ, this smells like Uncle.”

Micah cackled at the comparison. “I swiped it from Pearson’s stash. Navy rum, I think.”

Rosa wrinkled her nose and shoved the bottle back towards him, giving it a slight tilt as she made a motion for him to drink up first. He raised an eyebrow and swiped the bottle back from her.

“What, you don’t trust me?”

“I don’t trust Pearson’s taste.” She corrected him, suddenly realising how the gesture came across but also intrigued by the fact that her perceived distrust seemed to almost upset him. “I ain’t ready for another near-death experience so soon.”

He shrugged his shoulders and took a deep swig of the bottle as if trying to prove something to her. “God  _ damn _ Pearson!” He hollered and sucked in air through his teeth to hold back the burning at the back of his throat. 

“Give it here!” She responded with a soft laugh at his reaction. Micah held out the bottle to her but just as her fingers grazed it, he jerked it out of reach with a devious smile and eyes that burned with mischief. She gave him a long pout, knowing full well how he loved to play these little games with her. 

“Why are you so mean to me,  _ Mr. Bell _ ?”

He hid the bottle behind his back with both arms but she suddenly pushed herself against him, trying to reach around his torso to seize it back. 

Being this close to him, she could smell the booze on him and not just from before either, it was the stale smell of someone who had been hitting the bottle all day long.

“You think  _ this  _ is mean? Oh darlin’,” He shook his head at her while blocking her efforts to snatch his arms. “This ain’t mean, but y’know what is?” His previously amused tone tempered with the question, like storm clouds on the horizon, there was a sinister undertone to it that made Rosa step away from him as she searched those brooding eyes for a hint as to what may have soured his mood.

“Mean is usin’ people who give a shit about you to forget about how fucked up you are.”

She opened her mouth to speak but the words were not there. The bitter truth had choked them in the back of her throat. He had been hurting after last night, it was clear by the way he wove his confession of care into the barb of his words, it made them sting all the worse.

Last night, her senses had been overcome with euphoria at coming so close to death, a high unlike any she had ever experienced withered her self-restraint and replaced it instead with an overwhelming need to feel alive. 

And it was easy to feel alive with him. 

Micah was unpredictable, he teetered dangerously on the edge of rampant cruelty and mania but the way he had cared for her, despite his base urges, had left her bewildered. She had wanted nothing more than to succumb to him, to feel the exhilaration of her beating heart and to smother the growing resentment of thinking John had left her out there. 

She had wanted to thank Micah. But nothing could have prepared her for his true desires. __

_ Her. _

When morning came and they departed that small cabin, they did so in complete silence.

Her lips began to tremble from holding back the tears that pricked at the surface of her eyes but she’d be damned if she was going to let him see her cry, instead she snatched the bottle out his hand and turned towards the bed when suddenly his hand gripped her forearm and jerked her back to face him, pale blue eyes stared back at her with a solemn look.

“But you’re right, Rosa. Maybe I am a mean man,” He declared, loosening his grip on her arm. “Maybe I’m just mean to  _ you _ 'cause I like you.”

He brooded silently as he took her in, she stood in front of him with her gaze dropped to the floor after his statement, long flowing raven hair hiding her expression. She was still wearing his shirt, he realised with an amused smile. It was far too big for her lean figure but it clung to all the right curves. 

_ Oh, those curves.  _

He inhaled sharply at the memory of how they felt under his calloused touch and instinctively reached out to her waist, rough hands roaming to her hips before tugging at the hem of the shirt. Her gaze continued to evade his even at his closeness.

“It looks better on you. Keep it.”

“You should leave,” After a moment of uneasy silence and the weight of his lingering touch, she finally spoke, her stare fixated on his mouth refusing to look him in the eye as if concealing something. “You’re drunk.”

“Aww c’mon now darlin’, I thought we was just havin’ some fun?” He placed an index finger under her chin, tilting it upwards to meet his gaze, forcing her to look upon him.

Long wispy lashes flicked upwards to reveal a soft doe-eyed stare that made his heart skip a beat. 

“Micah, don’t...” 

But it was too late, before she could finish her objection, his lips found hers.

The way his name rolled from her sultry full lips did  _ something _ to him, like an incantation that set him aflame and the only relief was her sweet taste. His tongue dipped languidly into her mouth, hot and willing to feed his insatiable hunger as she whined into him. 

_ Christ, those sounds.  _

The recognition of the power he had to make her moan and writhe in his grip worked him into a fervour, devouring her with greedy wet kisses in between her soft moans.

“Stop...” She murmured breathlessly against his lips as they pulled apart for air, the intimacy of her body against his betrayed her words.

“Don’t you fret now darlin',” Micah teased with a low growl as he abruptly raised his arms in a gesture of reassurance, backing off and walking back to the window where'd he came from. “I wasn’t plannin’ on stayin’. I got business to attend to, ‘sides I ain’t in the habit of lettin’ a woman make a fool outta me.” 

Rosa let out a long sigh, she couldn't tell if she was relieved or frustrated but she was grateful that he had decided to leave without a fight. 

He pried open the window and a gust of snow blew in again, sending a chill down her spine. He hesitated momentarily after swinging one leg over, glancing back at Rosa while he straddled the ledge.

“Have you and little Johnny been reunited yet?”

“No.”

He let out a howl of laughter at her steely response. “Oooh boy, are you in for a treat! Turns out, maybe I was wrong.”

She tilted her head to the side with a perplexed expression. “Wrong about what?”

“That maybe he’d do a hell of a lot better than you out there.”

“Micah, what are you talking about?”

“Go see for `yerself. Pretty boy ain’t so pretty no more.” 

Was all he offered up before descending back down into the darkness from which he came, his parting words leaving Rosa in a state of shock, her heart pounding in her ears as she gave way to a rising panic. 

She needed to see him for herself at that moment like she needed air to breathe. 

"John..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am _really_ slow to update partly because life is hectic and partly because I find it hard to write for this game as I haven't played it in quite a while (and I'm currently writing Walking Dead fics lol)
> 
> To the, like, 3 people who enjoy this trash fic: thank you for your patience 💖

**Author's Note:**

> I might do a continuation of this story depending on the feedback. I know there isn't a lot of interest in Micah fics 😓


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